Horror and Grace
by ithaswhatitisnt
Summary: A hopefully slightly different spin on the Beauty and the Beast story using our favorite masked 'beast' and the beauty we wish we all were...A very long oneshot.


A retelling of the Beauty and the Beast fairytale using our favorite masked man and his special lady. I took the ending and the enchantress part from the Disney film, yes, but the merchant part and the siblings come from different variations of the story. However, I still own nothing, no matter how many combinations I put together. I don't own Phantom, Beauty and the Beast, or anything else in this story that can be considered to have an author. And yes, I know the ending is horrible...Please don't judge me. ^^ The reason this isn't in chapters is because I wrote it all at once, and I think it deserves to be read all at once. Sorry for inconviencing (spelling, sorry!) anyone by the horribly long story, but it's all worth it in the end!

* * *

Once upon a time, in a part of France, there was a spoiled young prince by the name of Erik. Erik had no consideration for the wants and needs of others. He was very vain. He scoffed if someone had a little dirt on their shoes, or if someone's shirt was a little dirty. No girl in her right mind wanted to marry him, and his parents were disappointed in him.

One night, there was an awful, bone-chattering storm. An old woman in a ratty old cloak came up to the castle door where Erik lived. She knocked twice, then stepped back and waited.

Erik came to the door, opened it, and recoiled at the sight of the old woman.

"What do you want, ugly?"

"Please, young man, could you give an old woman some shelter for the night?" she begged, looking at him with large open eyes.

"What does this look like, a charity? The palace doesn't have its doors open for beggars," the young prince sneered. He started to close the door, but the old woman thrust her withered hand into a fold of her cloak to pull out a single red rose. It was perfect, almost unreal, and the prince scoffed.

"What is _that_?" the prince asked, his voice dripping with bored sarcasm.

"An object of beauty, which I offer to you in payment for allowing me to spend the night here," the old woman said, and the prince spat at her feet.

"If you have no money with which to pay, I will not let you in," the prince said finally, smiling triumphantly. He felt he had made his point.

The old woman frowned, the wrinkles on her face becoming blurred together, and suddenly she inexplicably began to glow. The prince became frightened, but intrigued, and he stared at the old woman as she transformed from the old woman he had just been conversing with to a breathtaking enchantress.

"What is wrong with you?" the enchantress asked. "Would you let me in now?"

"Yes, of course, forgive me!" the prince cried. "If I had known what you really were, I would have let you in immediately!" He fell to his knees in front of her and began kissing her feet.

"Enough," the enchantress ordered. The prince was lifted off her feet by invisible hands and he stared up at the enchantress, baffled by what she was doing.

"You are the most foul of human men," the enchantress said, "and until you learn to appreciate beauty, you will become as foul on the outside as you are on the inside." She waved her great hand, and the prince felt warmth spreading through him. He was raised into the air and suddenly he felt a burst of pain in his face. He cried out, but the enchantress showed him no mercy.

At last, his feet met solid ground, and he turned to look at himself in his favorite mirror. He was horrorstruck by the sight that met his eyes. His fine crown of sable hair was diminished into a few straggly strands. His eyes were misshapen and colored strangely; his formerly beautiful golden eyes had become one forest green, one cornflower blue. His body had been reduced to mere bones; all the muscles he had worked so hard to achieve had vanished.

But the part that horrified him the most was his face.

His former face had been a true thing of beauty. Flawless skin that looked as though it had been carved from the chisel of God. Full red lips. His proud regal nose. Now his face had the flesh torn away from it, revealing twisted burned semi-skin beneath. Erik had no nose. His lips were cracked and withered and completely unnoticeable.

He screamed in anger, then swung a thin arm at the mirror to erase the foul image. The mirror shattered instantly, shards embedding themselves in his hands and making the floor bloody. He turned back to the enchantress.

"What have you done to me?" he demanded furiously.

"I have made a physical manifestation of your true soul. I have succeeded," the enchantress said, smiling at her handiwork.

"Change me back. Now," the prince ordered.

"Not until you learn how to find beauty in all creatures and objects of this world. You are a creature of ugliness, are you not? Someone, as impossible as it sounds, would be able to find beauty in your appearance."

"You're right. I don't believe you," the prince said, laughing hysterically.

"You can change yourself back."

"How?" The prince threw himself on the enchantress' feet. "Tell me!" he roared.

"If you find your true love, someone that loves you for you and someone that you love in return, you will change back to your normal self. I will give you this rose as a reminder that there is beauty in everything, you just have to look. You have until your twenty-first year to find someone to break this spell." With that, she stepped back away from him and began to disappear until she was gone.

Erik turned back to the smashed mirror, looked down at his bloody hands, and he began to weep. He knew that he could never break this curse, and he only had two years to find a girl that would be able to look beyond this hideousness.

Something large and white suddenly caught his eye, and he leaned over to pick it up. It was a large white mask, large enough to cover his entire face. Wondering if the enchantress had left it there for him, he put it on, still whimpering like a wounded animal over his fate.

Erik picked himself up slowly, made his way to the main door, and began baying at the moon like some sort of beast.

* * *

"Christine! Time to wake up!" Christine's father, Gustave, yelled up to her.

"All right, Father!" Christine yelled back, propping herself up in bed and yawning. She avoided hitting her window and her eldest sister, Gabrielle, as she stretched. She then turned to give her other older sister, Madeline, a glance as she wriggled out of the bed the three of them shared. Christine got dressed silently in a light blue dress that set off her eyes nicely and brushed her flaxen hair until it gleamed. She blew a kiss to her still sleeping elder sisters and went downstairs.

Christine was silent when she passed the rooms of her three elder brothers. She loved them, but Francois, Gerard, and Charles could get rather testy if they didn't get enough sleep.

Christine positioned herself at the bottom of the stairs, still not in view of her father, and she singsonged, "Good morning, Papa!"

Gustave nearly dropped his cup of coffee upon hearing the unexpected voice, but he instead gripped his cup tighter and turned to look at his youngest child. Seeing Christine always brightened Gustave's day. She was always in a good mood, and she was certainly the sweetest and most helpful of his children. Christine was also the most beautiful of Gustave's children. She had inherited her mother's beauty, but there was also a touch of Gustave in her, as well as an unearthly beauty that he couldn't place. But, even if he was only admitting it to himself, he loved Christine best of all his children.

"Good morning, my dear Christine," he said, walking to the stairs and giving Christine a kiss on the head.

"Papa, why am I the only one awake?" Christine asked.

Gustave's smiling face suddenly twisted into the saddest face Christine had ever seen on her father, and he took her hand. He led her to the table and sat her down in a chair.

"Christine, there's something you should know."

"What is it, Papa?"

"All my shipments of cargo have mysteriously disappeared. We are nearly penniless, Christine."

Christine was stunned speechless.

"Papa, why have you told me this and not Francois or Gabrielle? Surely they will know better what to do than I."

"Christine, they do not have your fine head of logic. Besides, we will have to begin living simply for a while, until I can make enough money to bring us back to the way we were before."

Christine simply nodded and placed her small dainty hands in her father's rough calloused hands.

"Don't worry, Papa. I will do the best I can and make sure my siblings do as well."

"I know, my dear. It's not you I'm worried about." He sighed, as only a father with no hope left in his heart can do.

"Now, listen carefully. I am setting off today to attempt to find one shipment that may or may not have made it back. I have to check on it. I want you and your siblings to remain here, until I get back."

"What's this about, Father?" Gustave looked up from talking to Christine to see that his other five children had gathered in the doorway. His beautiful but vain daughters and his handsome but proud sons were clustered together like chickens waiting for feed.

"Papa," whined Madeline, "did I just hear you say that we are poor?"

Gustave shuddered before he answered, "Yes, I did say that."

A loud cacophony of protest rose among the five and Gustave raised his hand.

"Quiet. Now, as I've told Christine, today I am setting out to check on one final shipment. On the possibility that I will have some payment coming in, I will buy each of you one gift. What would you like?"

The full-grown children began trampling over themselves to tell their father what they wanted. The boys all requested bigger guns, for hunting, and Madeline and Gabrielle both requested dresses.

"What about you, Christine?" Gustave asked. He turned to his youngest child, who had been deep in thought while waiting for her brothers and sisters to finish.

"I would like a rose. A red one. Just one, if you can find one, please," Christine finally said, and Gustave kissed the top of her head. She was so easy to please.

"I'll do my best to find you what you have asked for," Gustave said, mentally wiping his brow. _I could always barter for some fairly new used guns for the boys, and I could find some new used dresses for Gabby and Maddie at the church. However, I must find Christine that rose! She needs to have beauty. She needs it like sunlight. _ _And I will not deprive my favorite daughter of what she wants!_

A short time later, Gustave had his horse saddled and ready to ride into town to check on their shipment. He waved good-bye to his children and set off, determined to make things right. His cloak blustered out behind him as he rode, like the sails of a mighty ship, and the two elder daughters wiped their false tears away from their faces as their father disappeared from sight.

"Thank God he's gone," Gabrielle breathed.

Christine glared at her eldest sister but said nothing. She knew she couldn't change her sisters' vanity and selfishness, and she wasn't going to waste time by attempting the impossible.

Gustave reached the port and was incredibly relieved to find that his shipment had indeed come in. He took the money from the shipment and rushed into town to purchase the presents his children had requested. Unfortunately, he had not been able to find a rose for Christine, let alone a red one. So he piled the guns and dresses on the back of his horse and set off for home, devastated that he would not be able to please his youngest daughter.

When he had only been riding a short while, a storm set in, and soon rain was falling so hard and fast that he could not see. He tried to push his horse onward, but the horse refused. He decided to turn the horse around and when he did, he found that he could not find his way at all. He rode, scared and utterly alone, for a good long time.

Finally, after what seemed a very spooky eternity, he reached a set of rusted but still black wrought-iron gates. The gates swung open, as though he had been expected, and he rushed in.

Gustave tied his horse up under a roofed area, so the poor creature wouldn't be pelted with rain, and he approached the large wooden door of the castle that he had stumbled upon. He raised a trembling hand and knocked the knocker twice. He was surprised to hear a resounding bang echo throughout the seemingly empty landscape, but he didn't instantly get an answer.

Without any warning, he was suddenly dragged inside the dark castle by his throat, and he was thrown against the wall. Gustave began scrabbling at his throat to release his captor's hands, and abruptly he was dropped from at least a foot in the air. Gustave crashed to the ground, his hands making their way to massage his throat, and he gazed around anxiously for his attacker. He could find no one, but yet he felt that someone was lurking in the shadows, watching his every move.

"Who are you?" came a deadly hiss, and Gustave scrambled to get back against the wall.

"Gustave Daae. I am merely a merchant who got lost on his way home because of the unexpected storm," Gustave rasped, shaking.

"Tell me, what do you want?" the voice growled, and Gustave managed to stammer, "I am looking for a rose for my youngest daughter. She wanted one as a gift."

There was a moment of stiff silence before the voice said, "How many children do you have?"

Gustave wasn't sure that he should reveal this information, because he didn't want to place his children in danger, but right then he just wanted to protect himself.

"I have three sons and three daughters. My wife is dead. We are destitute. I am simply trying to make ends meet."

"Tell me about your youngest daughter. You speak very fondly of her. What is wrong with her?" the voice demanded, and Gustave leapt to his feet.

"How dare you accuse my daughter of being abnormal! My youngest child, my dear Christine, she is the most wonderful child I've ever seen. She's eighteen , she has the most beautiful features, and she's very sweet and lovable. There is absolutely nothing wrong with her, monsieur," Gustave scolded, shaking his fist at his invisible foe.

"How much do you value your life, monsieur? How much do you value the life of your favorite daughter?" the voice questioned.

"As long as my child could be in danger, I have no value for my life. I value her life a hundred million times more than mine," Gustave answered truthfully, his heart clenching at the thought of Christine being in any sort of peril. She was so kind and sweet, she didn't deserve it. The voice was silent a moment before it boomed again.

"I will provide you with a rose to give to her. But then you must make her come live with me. She will be perfectly taken care of here. I have a full staff ready and waiting. All I need is for her to stay as payment for you being here tonight and for my giving you a rose," the voice declared, and Gustave began sputtering.

"Would you rather I killed you and sent your corpse back to Christine?" The voice said Christine's name with a strange inflection, almost like the word was honey on his lips and he enjoyed it immensely.

"Never! You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Please. There has to be another way…"

"I don't want your nonexistent money, and anything else you would offer, I could get for cheaper and in a more honest way."

Gustave didn't know how else to bargain with the voice that was threatening his life over Christine's.

"You have my word," Gustave said, defeated and loathing himself for what he was about to do to his favorite child. He hung his head in shame. He took a few cautious steps away from the wall and picked up a perfect red rose that had been placed on the cold floor of the castle. Gustave turned, ready to leave, when the voice spoke again, seemingly right behind him.

"I want her here tomorrow. Come, I will show you to a room. You may leave in the morning to collect your daughter and her belongings, if she so desires to bring any." A soft glowing came from behind Gustave, and he whirled around to find a floating lantern.

"Do not be alarmed. Simply follow the light and all will be fine," the voice said calmly. Gustave, when he listened closer, couldn't help noticing what a fine musical quality the voice had. If he really had to place his finger on it, he would have said that the voice was a tenor, if not a baritone. Gustave was sure that the voice sounded absolutely beautiful when it sang, if it did.

Gustave followed the eerie light down several long corridors. He wanted to take in the surroundings, but he did not want to incite any more of the voice's wrath.

The lantern led Gustave to a simple room, one that had a bed, a wash basin, and a chair for his rain-soaked cloak.

"You may sleep here. When first light comes, you must leave." With that, the lantern extinguished, leaving Gustave with dim light and holding a single, perfect red rose. Gustave laid his cloak over the ornate chair and placed the rose on top. He crawled into bed and he began to mentally berate himself over the ghastly fate he had condemned Christine to. He would never forgive himself, but what other option did he have? He didn't want her to ever see death, to ever have to think of death. As a matter of fact, the day Christine was born, her mother's heart gave out. The last words Christine's mother breathed to Gustave were, "Don't let any harm befall her." Now, it had come to this. Gustave was handing Christine over to a monster for the rest of her life, and it was his entire fault. He silently wept, and eventually he cried himself to sleep.

Gustave awoke before first light, noiselessly readied himself to go, and he made his way back to the front door, the rose clutched tightly in his hands. He reached his horse, which had somehow received food and water, untied the beast, and took off for home. When the sun rose higher, Gustave found that the rose had been clipped thornless, and there was a black velvet ribbon tied in a bow around the middle of the stem. He shook his head, because he didn't want to think about that terrible, cruel voice and kept heading straight for his home.

He reached his home around noon, and he was greeted by the sight of Christine running outside to greet him, her flaxen curls flying haphazardly about her face. He grinned widely for a moment before he remembered what he had to do, and the thought alone wiped the grin right off his face.

Christine reached him, her green dress smeared with flour stains, before her smiling face fell and she hugged him, asking, "Papa, what's wrong? Why are you so sad?"

He wordlessly handed her the rose before turning to retrieve his other gifts.

"Papa, please, what is it? What happened?" Christine pleaded, worry dancing in her eyes. The sight was enough to make Gustave want to break down sobbing.

"Did the shipment come in?" Christine asked tearfully, and her father threw down the gifts for his other useless children and hugged Christine as tight as he could.

"Forget about that damn shipment," he whispered into her hair. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and mat themselves into her curls, but she didn't move. She clung to her father, tears coming out of her eyes as well.

"Papa, what happened?" Christine wailed, and Gustave grimly picked her up and carried her like an infant into the house. He didn't want to miss the memory of her warm hugs and her feather-light touch, as he knew he was going to, so he wanted to get as much skin to skin contact with Christine as possible.

The other five came running when they heard their father's boots stomp through the front door. When they saw him empty-handed, simply standing at the door like an idiot with Christine in his arms, they began grumbling. Madeline caught sight of their gifts outside in the mud from the last night's heavy rain, and everyone began to complain about how much Christine was babied and how specially treated she was.

Gustave set Christine down gently and hugged her to him again, enfolding her face in his massive chest.

"Quiet!" he ordered his children, and they instantly fell dumb. Christine was terrified of the large vibrato that echoed through her father's body at his raised voice, but at the same time she hugged him closer, just relishing the feel of her father loving her.

"Now, listen. I apologize for the state of your gifts, but something dreadful has happened. While I was trying to find my way home last night, that weird rainstorm spooked my horse and I was not able to find my way back. I took shelter at what I thought was an abandoned castle. When I entered, I was attacked by an invisible hand." At this horrible statement, Christine stepped back and surveyed her father for bruises or cuts. "The invisible hand, I soon found out, had an owner. The voice that came was terrible and mighty, like one would imagine the voice of God to be. It threatened me, and then, in return for shelter and giving me the rose I gave to Christine…" At this he gestured to the rose Christine was absentmindedly fondling. "…it demanded that I…give Christine over to it to live with it." He said the last part in a rush, and he ignored the shocked gasps that came from his older children. He turned to Christine, only to find that she had begun to sob quietly. She had dropped the rose.

"I am so sorry, Christine. It wanted to kill me and deliver the corpse to you. I would rather tear my own eyes out than have you see me dead. I gave it my word. We go back tonight. It made me promise. I am so, so sorry, my poor baby." Gustave wrapped his arms around a shaking Christine and just let her cry into his chest. He looked up at his other children, who looked horror-stricken at what their father had done. They were grateful that it was perfect Christine and not them, but still, having one's sister go live with a deadly monster was not a daily occurrence, and they would miss her.

"Gabby, Maddie, please go pack a trunk full of clothes for your sister. She'll be along momentarily to pack the rest of her belongings." Gabrielle and Madeline, who had honest-to-goodness tears running down their cheeks, only nodded and solemnly went to pack their sister's clothes. They felt like they were preparing Christine for her funeral.

"Francois, Gerard, I want both of you to please saddle the horses to the carriage. Charles, please go retrieve your gifts from outside. I am sorry I dropped them, but I was so overwhelmed with grief. Please forgive me," Gustave said mournfully, and the boys scampered off to do what they were asked.

"Papa," Christine whispered, her voice choked with tears, "how could you? Why would you tell this _thing_ that I would want to live with it?"

"I didn't," Gustave cried, "I swear to God I didn't tell it that. It asked what I wanted, and I said I wanted a rose for you…"

"Papa, forgive me. I shall never want anything ever again," Christine vowed, and sniffled a bit. "Did you really give it your word that I would come live with it forever?"

"I'm sorry, my angel, I had no choice. But yes, I did give it my word."

"Then I must go live with it," Christine said in an eerily calm voice. "I will do what I must to make you safe, Papa, even at the cost of my own life."

Gustave just held Christine and the two sobbed in each other's arms. Gustave was so proud of his daughter for her bravery, and Christine was sad that she had to leave her father. But it had to be done. Moments later, Gustave bade Christine go pack the rest of her belongings since her sisters had already started. He strode outside to see if the boys were finished with their tasks.

Christine went to her room with a mask of calm on her face. She had to be strong. Perhaps she could try to reason with this monster once she arrived.

When she entered her room, she was enveloped in two sets of arms.

"We'll miss you, Christine, we really will!" Madeline cried.

"Be careful, Christine. This monster will attempt terrible things with you, no doubt, and you must fight it!" Gabrielle advised, hugging her sister tighter.

"I will. Thank you for packing my clothes. Now please leave. I must finish." The two elder sisters unwrapped themselves from Christine and walked out the bedroom door, leaving Christine alone with her thoughts.

Christine packed her mother's necklace first, a beautiful reminder of her home, and she also packed in her favorite sachet of lavender and her favorite sheet music, the music from _Faust_ by Gounod. She figured as long as she was going to be a captive, she might as well entertain herself.

Christine came downstairs, a light traveling cloak swathed across her shoulders and her toiletries hidden beneath her cloak.

"Charles, please get Christine's trunk," Gustave said tonelessly. He sounded like any heartbroken man would that's about to or has just lost his favorite child.

The remaining Daaés lounged about downstairs, listening as Charles thumped his way up the stairs, thumped his sister's trunk on the floor, and thumped the trunk all the way down the stairs.

Gustave stood up from where he sat at the dining table and said, "If you want to say good-bye, do so now."

Christine's sisters chirped in unison, "Good-bye, Christine, we'll miss you so much," and they ran out the door, no doubt to alert the nearest town that Christine was gone and they were available for marriage.

Christine's brothers stared at her awkwardly for a second before each one stepped forward and hugged her.

"You watch yourself," Francois said, "and if this monster tries anything with you, find some way to let us know, and we'll come save you."

"Bye, Christine. I don't know who is better than you when it comes to curing my sickness, but I guess I'm going to have to find out," Gerard said mournfully, hugging his sister tightly.

"Christine, we will miss you. Things won't be the same. Papa will be brokenhearted until the day you return, if you will in fact return," Charles said, squeezing his sister.

"Thank you," Christine said, "I'll definitely miss you all. I'll do my best. I will try to come back someday as soon as I can!" She waved at her brothers, then let her father take her hand and lead her out to their coach. Gustave got her baggage settled while Christine clambered into the coach and seated herself. Christine was absolutely terrified at the prospect of living out the rest of her life with a horrible monster, let alone a stranger, but she tried to hold her chin high and accept it. She needed to fulfill her father's end of this bargain.

Gustave scrambled into the coach with her and signaled for the driver to take off. The long, daunting trip to Christine's prison began.

* * *

Gustave spent most of the ride trying to remind Christine to keep up with her singing.

"Remember, music soothes the savage beast," he said, "so if this _person_ is really an animal, if you can sing sweetly enough, you will be able to get away. Do you understand?" Christine nodded mutely. She stared out the window and tried concentrate on leaving her old life behind.

After a long and seemingly endless hour, Gustave and Christine reached the castle. Christine took one look at it and began whimpering like an injured animal. A complete cover of dark clouds surrounded the sky above the castle, and gargoyles hung off every turret, their ugly faces mocking Christine. The castle appeared dark and foreboding, and Christine didn't want to have anything to do with it. However, she forced herself to exit the safety of the coach and to walk beyond the menacing gates.

Gustave carried her trunk to the front door of the castle while Christine walked behind him, like an obedient puppy. Gustave came to the front door, set Christine's trunk down, and knocked twice with the large elaborate knocker. The door swung open as if by magic, and Christine shot a panicked look at her father as they entered.

Inside, a shadowy figure emerged from behind a pillar, causing Gustave to tense and Christine to shrink back in terror. The figure stepped forward, revealing itself to be nothing but a man in a mask.

"Step away from the door," it ordered, and Gustave realized with a shudder that this was the voice from yesterday. He moved forward, and he urged Christine to do so also with a silent gesture.

"Say your good-bye," the voice said, sounding bored. Gustave whirled to look at his favorite child, his baby, and he embraced her with a ferocity he hadn't known existed.

"Good-bye, my darling baby girl. Remember what I told you and know that I will never forgive myself for doing this to you. Also know that I love you, forever and always. I will pray for you every night. I love you," Gustave whispered before the tears overtook him and made it impossible for him to speak.

"I love you, Papa, more than anyone in the world," Christine murmured, her tears falling harder and faster than her father's. They just stood clutching each other for a while. The voice interrupted them after a few minutes.

"Please exit now, Monsieur." With a final tearful glance at his daughter, Gustave Daae exited the castle. Christine was left all alone with the strange figure.

"Good evening, Christine," the man said, bowing to her. "May I take your trunk for you and show you to your room?" Christine could do nothing but nod dumbly. She didn't want any part of what this man was offering, but she only wanted to do what would spare her father.

The masked man picked up her fairly heavy trunk with ease. He balanced it in one scrawny arm, which Christine thought was odd, to have a scraggly, bony man have so much strength, and in the other free hand, he carried a bright lantern. The lantern illuminated the corridor enough that Christine could clearly see the man's masked face and fine clothes.

"My name is Erik," the man, Erik, said slowly. "I already know you are Christine. Your father spoke very highly of you." His tone turned from calm and monotonous to slightly cheerful, if not insane-sounding. "What do you like, Christine? What do you like to do? Hmmm? Do you like books? Erik has an entire library full of them. Do you like painting and art? Please, tell Erik what pleases you, so we may do so together and become good friends." He turned around at this last part, looking Christine straight in the face, and he smiled a smile that Christine hoped to God she would never have to see again. This man scared the daylights out of her, and he was creepy. Why was he being so friendly to her in the first place? She was a prisoner, was she not? Prisoners were supposed to be treated like prisoners, if she recalled correctly.

Erik kept his face forward, but at the same time he felt a light giddiness overtake him. The merchant hadn't been lying. Christine was easily, by far, the most beautiful girl Erik had ever laid eyes on. He hoped that by treating her kindly, and doing what she liked, maybe he could make her fall in love with him. Then he could go back to the way he used to be, the happier him. Erik was already overwhelmed with a desire to make Christine happy at any cost, and he wanted to do anything to make her feel at ease around him. The mask wouldn't make that task easy, he knew, and he knew she had to see under it sooner or later, but he didn't want her to see it just yet.

Erik came to an abrupt stop while Christine stewed in silence. She almost ran into him, but she stopped herself just in time. Erik lowered her trunk to the floor, unlocked her door, and ushered her in politely. Christine stepped carefully around him, skirting her way around his thin frame, and entered her room.

Christine was truthfully expecting to be kept in the dungeon or something equally monstrous and cruel. When she laid eyes on the breathtaking bedroom that could only be meant for her, she inwardly let out a relieved sigh. At least she didn't have to worry about catching her death from a rotting prison cell.

Erik, who was watching Christine very carefully, couldn't gauge her reaction, and that bothered him. He wanted to know what she was thinking when she was thinking it, but the girl seemed stupidly determined not to let him do anything to or with her.

"This is your bed chamber," Erik announced, keeping his strangely colored eyes on Christine. "Erik will place your trunk here," he shoved the hefty trunk against a vacant wall, "and then Erik will leave the lantern here with you." He placed the lamp on her bedside table. The lantern lent the room a healthy glow, and Christine felt better about sleeping in the room.

"Thank you. I hate being in the dark. May I have the key, please?" Christine said, and Erik's insides began contorting. She had spoken! To him, no less! Oh, what an angel she was, to give some of her life to make an effort to speak to the monster! And she was afraid of the dark. Well, well, well.

"Of course," Erik said proudly, extending the key to her. He dropped the key into her outstretched palm, and she tucked it into a pocket sewn into her skirt.

"Is there anything else you require, Christine?" Christine shook her head, anxious for Erik to leave so she could process the whole situation.

"You need only call, and Erik will come and give you whatever you desire," Erik said, sweeping a bow to her. He exited, calling, "Good night, Christine," as he left. Christine closed the door behind him, then she locked it and hid the key under the bed. She didn't want to think about opening the door ever again. Truthfully, it hadn't occurred to her that Erik might have had a spare key, but she was too upset to think logically.

Christine tried to think positively. He had been nothing but kind to her since the moment she arrived. He had granted her the privacy she needed. He didn't treat her as a prisoner; rather, he treated her as an equal. But she couldn't wrap her head around _why_. She wanted to know when the torture and suffering were going to start.

Out of the corner of Christine's eye, she saw a balcony, one that offered a lovely view of the bright moon. Christine walked onto the balcony, inhaled the fresh sweet air, and wondered how far it would be for her to jump. But instantly she dismissed that idea. She didn't want her father to think about her dead, for it would surely kill him to know she had taken her own life.

Christine stared at the moon and pondered if there was a way to get her there, instead of here. She sighed and folded her hands over her heart. She began to sing, as she always did when she needed comfort, and the moment she heard the crystalline notes float out of her mouth, she felt soothed. Everything was going to be all right.

Christine sang to the moon, and she knew it was silly to think so, but she felt that the moon was watching, and listening, and it would hear the prayer of a day child.

Erik had just begun to walk away from Christine's room when he heard the incredible voice begin to sing. He tried to open the door, but found it was locked. He promptly began panicking before he remembered he had a spare key. He sprinted to get the spare key, and when he came back he forced the door open and looked for Christine. She wasn't in the room, but she was singing loud enough he could hear every word. She was singing the Jewel Song from Faust. Erik himself loved that song, and he found himself dissatisfied with every female artist ever to attempt to sing the song. But Christine…she brought a new elegance to the song that he had never noticed. He loved her voice anyhow. It was pure, she could hit very high notes, and she sounded like the sound was coming from her soul.

Erik knew he could teach her, he could make her absolutely perfect, and he hoped that someday, he and Christine could sing together, or perhaps she could sing his music.

First, he had to get her to trust him, to like him, to _love _him.

Erik carefully went to the balcony, where Christine was still standing singing to the moon. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were folded over her heart. Erik hated to interrupt her, but he waited a second more before he said timidly, "Christine?"

Christine stopped in the middle of a word, keeping her hands over her heart, and she instantly became distressed.

"Forgive me! Pardon my noise, I sing to comfort myself. I do hope I didn't disturb you."

Disturbed? No, Erik wasn't disturbed, he was intrigued. He was fascinated. For the first time, he felt that he was genuinely in love.

"No, Christine's heavenly singing was not what disturbed Erik," Erik said, blushing. He was glad the mask hid his face, because he knew when he blushed his face looked like it was going to burst from the amount of blood it held. It was an ugly sight indeed.

"Your singing is the most amazing sound Erik's ears have ever heard," Erik continued. "If you would allow it, Erik could give you lessons. He can make you the best singer on the whole Earth." He had never done so before, but he began fervently praying now. He prayed that she would say yes.

Christine, on the other hand, was slightly disgusted and shocked. First her captor treated her kindly, just to lull her into a false sense of security, then he wanted to give her singing lessons? She was going to say no. What choice did she have? Surely, these lessons were just a cover scheme for some sort of diabolical torture he had planned in store for her…

"No, thank you," Christine said quietly. "I wouldn't want to use up any more of your time…"

"No, believe Erik, you would be helping him. And he would be helping you, Christine." Christine simply stared at the masked man leering at her from across the balcony. "Would you like some late dinner with Erik, Christine? Hmmm?"

"No, thank you, I am not hungry," Christine said, turning to go back into her lavish bedroom. Erik followed her like a puppy following its master.

"Erik, please," Christine said timidly, worried if she said the wrong thing he would hurt her father, "just go and leave me for the night."

Erik was visibly hurt at Christine's rejection, but he decided that it was her first day with him, the monster, and she probably wanted some time to adjust. He bowed her and said good night again, then locked the door and put the spare key back. He vowed he wouldn't use it again unless there was an emergency.

Christine walked over and firmly shut the doors to the balcony. That was the last time she did _that_! She went to her bed, crawled under the covers, and buried her face into the blankets as she cried herself to sleep out of loneliness.

When she awoke the next morning, she was devastated to see that outside looked no better than it had yesterday. That fact alone dampened her spirits. She settled back down and tried to fall back asleep. If the day wasn't going to be nice, and she would have to spend the day with her jailer, then she just wanted to sleep the rest of her life away.

A timid knock came on her door.

"Christine? Are you awake? Erik wishes you to come breakfast with him," Erik whispered rather loudly. Christine pulled the blankets over her head and remained silent. Once Erik heard no response, he shrugged his shoulders and decided that she was still sleeping. He went to the library, seated himself in front of the large roaring fire, and decided that he would wait another hour. Then he would go wake her up himself. He began to stare at the clock, the minutes dragging by and taking far too long for his liking. But he would wait. He would be patient. He understood that sometimes love took a little time; it was not always love at first sight.

Christine had shivered when she heard his voice. There was something there that really scared her. She didn't care that he was being kind and polite. She knew that something bad was coming, and she didn't want to face it.

"Christine?" Damn! There was his wretched voice again! "Please, are you awake? Erik wants you to come out," it said, and Christine trembled upon hearing him. He sounded like a madman. Why did he speak in the third person? It frightened her to no end.

Christine sat up in bed and yelled, "Go away, Erik! I do not feel like spending time with you today." To her intense surprise, shock, and fear, she was unexpectedly hoisted out of her bed, blankets and all, by Erik, who smiled his scary smile at her.

"Good morning."

Christine screamed, and he tightened his grip on her, so he wouldn't drop her.

"Why don't you want to come spend time with Erik?" Erik asked cajolingly. "Erik only wants to get to know you, so he may become your friend."

"Put me down!" Christine shrieked, her face a bleached white that made her look sick. Erik put her down carefully on the bed and stepped backward, never taking his eyes off her. Christine pulled the blankets closer around herself as though she could use the blankets as a shield from his never-wandering eyes. They certainly scared her.

"Maybe I don't want to be your friend," Christine said through lightheadedness. "Maybe I just want to stay here in this room by myself and die." Erik began panicking. This had to be the girl he needed; he couldn't let her die. Besides, he found that he was attracted to more than just her beauty. He wanted to know why she didn't want him touching her.

"Please, Christine, you have to tell Erik what's wrong, or he can't fix it for you," he said.

"What's wrong?" Christine said, standing up off the bed. She began walking toward him slowly, but like she was possessed. "You want to know _what's wrong_?" Erik nodded solemnly, but he was scared of her reaction. He didn't want her scared, he wanted her as happy and carefree as she was when she sang the previous night.

"I'll tell you what's wrong," Christine declared in a dead voice. "What's wrong is that I'm stuck here with a complete stranger because he had _the nerve_ to demand payment from my father! He didn't want money, oh no, money wasn't good enough! He wanted to kidnap a girl and use her for his own cruel, sadistic means! So by all means, go ahead and do what you will with me. Just know that I hate you, I always will hate you, and there is nothing you can do to make me like you!" Her voice had risen during her ranting, and here she was full out shrieking. "So just get out and let me be! You don't need to be nice to me! I'd almost rather you were cruel and evil! It would make me feel better if you were!" She was panting, and she looked at him, backed against the wall, his eyes behind his mask wide in terror.

Erik held his hands up, palms facing her, so she would know what he was doing.

"Erik will leave you alone, Christine. He is sorry that he's made you unhappy. Erik will try again tomorrow." With that, he bowed to her and left the room, picking up the door he had kicked down in his haste to reach Christine. He seated himself outside her door, listening for any sign that she had changed her mind about him. Erik didn't mind admitting it to himself, but he really thought that Christine was the one. She would be the girl who didn't run away at the sight of his face. She would be the girl to change him back.

Inside, Christine paced her room like a caged animal. Her mind was churning with so many ideas of escape that she didn't know which one to entertain first. She decided she needed some fresh air to think properly so she went to the balcony and stepped outside into pouring rain. Christine frowned and she was about to go back inside when she got a brilliant idea. She stayed out in the rain for a half-hour, then came back and danced around her chamber for a while, ignoring the fact that it was colder than a tomb in her chamber and she had wet hair and soaked skin. But Christine didn't care. Maybe if she was sick, Erik would send her home.

After Christine thought she was sufficiently chilled to the bone, she inched under her covers, shivering, but thinking it was worth it to do so, to have a shot at getting home. She fell asleep, knowing that the sooner Erik knew she was sick, the sooner she could get home.

She awoke sometime in the wee hours of the morning, decided it was too early and Erik wouldn't be up, and fell back asleep. She definitely wanted to make sure Erik would get the full effect.

Unfortunately, the fire was strong enough that it dried her hair and her body through the blankets. Christine woke up with a little roughness in her throat, but that was about it. Christine swore to herself, then surrendered and left the safety of the bed. She got dressed in a warm black and red gown that was her absolute favorite and fixed her hair in an updo that made her feel better. She exited her room, unsure of where to go to get breakfast, when Erik popped up next to her.

"Good morning, Christine!"

"Argh!" Christine let out a gurgled shriek and jumped half a foot in the air. Erik's shoulders drooped and his tone became mournful.

"Erik is sorry, he just wanted to see how you were doing today. Your voice sounds fine. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yes, please," Christine croaked, and Erik scowled.

"Your voice doesn't sound fine anymore. Does your throat hurt much?" Christine thought it was sweet that he was being so concerned over her, so she did nod. "I'll find some honey that we can put in your tea this morning that will fix you right away!" Erik said cheerfully, holding out his arm. Christine took his arm and he led her to the dining room, complimenting her on her outfit and hair for the day. He pulled her to a chair, which he pulled out for her and bade her sit. She sat, pleased with his gentlemanly manners, and waited until he sat for her to begin eating. She picked up the tea cup and sipped daintily. Christine couldn't help the smile that came to her lips when she tasted the honey. She sighed in contentment, and Erik stared at her.

"Are you satisfied, Christine?" She nodded, and he grinned as well as he could from behind his mask.

"I am going to request that you not speak as much as possible today, so as to save your voice," Erik ordered, and Christine dipped her head in acknowledgement. She didn't feel like speaking anyway, and it was nice to have Erik fuss over her, even if he was supposed to be a monster.

"What's under your mask?" Christine rasped. In a flurry, so fast that Christine didn't even have time to blink, Erik had leapt out of his chair, loomed over her, and grabbed her wrist with a mighty force she had never seen from him. The fact that he was holding her wrist so tightly she thought it had broken scared her more than anything he had done before, and she began to cry from surprise and fear.

"Do not _ever_ ask Erik what is under the mask again," Erik deadpanned. "If you knew what was under here, you would run away screaming. You would try to kill yourself. And Erik cannot have that. So whatever you do, _do not look under the mask_! Is Erik understood, Christine?" The traumatized girl could only nod yes, tears still streaming down her face. Erik's body then relaxed, and he let go of her wrist. He began to kiss it and handling it gently, as though it had broken. Christine was amazed by how quickly he had changed from being furious to being mournful and self-reproaching.

"Erik is very sorry for his inexcusable behavior, Christine. He hopes you will forgive him. Erik…Erik l-loves C-c-Christine s-s-s-so m-much," he stammered, and Christine put the hand that Erik was not holding over her heart.

"Please, do not be alarmed. Know that Erik loves you and will care for you and will never leave you," Erik said desperately, his eyes boring into her with intensity.

Christine was very frightened. She had barely known the man two days and he claimed that he loved her? Impossible…he was lying; he had to be.

"How you can you say that? You barely even know me," Christine rasped, and Erik leaned backward, seating himself in a chair, still holding her hand.

"Please," Erik began, "when I heard about you from your father, I didn't believe him when he said nothing but praise about you. I thought him a blind, stupid fool. But then you came, and I was blinded by your beauty, not to mentioned slayed by your kindness. You came to live with me because I threatened your father. There are not many girls who would fulfill such a promise.

"But you…you are very different, Christine. You are more beautiful than all the nymphs I've ever read about. You're kind, and virtuous, and very loving, and I love you with all my being.

"I also am enamored with your voice. You have the loveliest voice I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. I study music in my spare time, and I want to give you lessons to ensure that you are the best, so that one day, perhaps we could perform together." At this he looked down, embarrassed to meet her eyes.

"I know you don't love me. Right now, you most likely don't even like me. But I want us to be very good friends, Christine, and I hope that someday you will learn to love me as I love you."

To say Christine was flabbergasted would be an understatement in the most supreme sense. She was floored. Why would this man, whom she had known less than two full days, be in love with her?

"I know you are not in total agreement with me," Erik said, interrupting her pondering, "but know this: I love you with all my heart and all my soul. At least, what's left of my soul. I would protect you with every resource I have, and I would die to defend you from any evil. There are no others of which I can say the same, Christine Daae, and I hope that you will one day realize the extent of my devotion and adoration of you."

Though Christine had definitely thought his behavior odd before, now she realized he was nervous. He was acting the way he thought a man in love should act. Christine smiled the most tender, kindest smile she could manage, and Erik's face straightened up considerably.

"After breakfast," Erik said shyly, "would you like a tour? If this is to be your home as well, I would like to show you everything there is to see." Christine nodded, and Erik leapt for joy out of his chair. He took her hand and lifted his mask a bit to free his lips. He gently touched his withered lips to her fine hand, and Christine blushed. Erik caught sight of her face and he got down on his knees beside her chair.

"Please, don't be embarrassed. I want to show you affection, as well as someone in my condition can," Erik begged, and Christine relaxed. She wondered what exactly was wrong with him, what was under his mask, but she remembered his warning and she quivered for a second.

Christine finished breakfast under Erik's scrutinizing stare. As soon as she was done, he got up from his chair, came around to her, and helped her out of her chair. He grasped her hand and tucked it under his arm, so he was leading her properly. Erik proceeded to show Christine every inch of his castle. The whole time he was showing her around, he thought about what a relief it was to know that she wasn't rejecting him. He still had a chance.

Christine was simply amazed by how many different rooms there were. Each room, she learned, had a special purpose, and she was astounded to find that several of the rooms were available for her use.

"I implore you to do what you will here," Erik said, never taking his eyes off her. "This is your home, and I want you to be comfortable." Christine coughed to make her throat feel better, then she smiled the best smile she could manage while her throat was enflamed.

"Oh, dear, your throat is terrible, isn't it?" Erik asked. "Come, let's go to the library. I will go get you some more tea with honey. That seemed to help, didn't it?" Christine nodded and began to clear her throat, another action which she thought would help.

"Your crystal throat is much worse than I had originally believed," Erik said grimly. He gripped her arm firmly and led her to the library, where he hoped that some more tea and honey would soothe her throat and eliminate the soreness.

The library was, as Erik had said, absolutely full of books. There was not an empty shelf anywhere in the gargantuan place. A large marble fireplace that served as the centerpiece housed a welcome roaring fire. The fire cast glowing light upon two armchairs and one sofa, all in black velvet.

"It's beautiful," Christine croaked, and Erik did his best to show he was smiling.

"Don't speak. And it is not one-tenth beautiful as you are," Erik said honestly, and Christine blushed. He seated her in one of the armchairs, then hustled out of the room to fetch her tea and honey. Christine simply sat and waited, taking in her surroundings. She had to admit, for a supposed monster, he had absolutely gorgeous accommodations. If what he said about loving her was true, well, then she had nothing to fear, and the fears that her siblings had instilled in her were for naught.

Erik returned faster than was humanly possible in her eyes and handed her a teacup filled to the brim with tea. She could smell the honey wafting off the tea, and Erik motioned for her to drink. She did, and felt the honey slide down her swollen throat.

"Mmm," Christine moaned, closing her eyes.

"Good? Does it feel better?" Erik asked. Christine opened her eyes, looked directly at him, and sang, "_I feel so much better_! _Thank you so much_!" Erik's eyes welled up with tears at hearing her beautiful voice back to its normal state.

"You're welcome, Christine. I will always take care of you," Erik said, knowing he was blushing under the mask and grateful Christine couldn't see.

"How about a singing lesson now?" Christine asked, and Erik nearly fell over.

"Really? Do you really mean it?" Christine gave a nod, and Erik grabbed her arm and dragged her to the music room.

In the supposed music room, not only was there a piano, but there were also instruments of every kind, most of which Christine had not seen before and couldn't even begin to fathom naming. Erik dragged her over to the piano, where he sat down like a maestro, and he bade her sit next to him, which she did.

"I want to see how many octaves you can sing, to begin with," Erik told her, and he began to play. He beckoned her to sing, and it was as though someone had flipped a switch. Christine began to sing as though God Himself were in the room, and Erik couldn't help the tears that sprang to his eyes every time he heard her song. He was just overcome with elated joy. Christine sang so high that Erik heard all the glass in the next two rooms over shatter. Erik was so proud of her.

He stopped playing and asked, "Who taught you to sing?"

"My father, I suppose. I'm assuming that my mother had some natural talent, but she died when she gave birth to me." She shrugged nonchalantly, but Erik could see the curiosity brewing in her eyes. He didn't know what to make of the situation, so he remained silent and moved on.

They had their lesson for well over two hours. Erik pushed Christine into singing every song she knew. Erik's fingers were blurs as they moved across the keys, and Christine remained seated, singing like a choir of angels all by herself.

Finally, when they had exhausted every song that Christine knew how to sing and every song Erik knew how to play, they decided to go back to the library.

Once in the library, Christine collapsed into an armchair, and Erik keeled over onto the sofa, his hand flung across his forehead. Christine drank the remainder of her honey tea, and Erik fell asleep almost instantly.

Christine realized that as Erik dozed, he most likely wouldn't mind if she peeked under the mask. If he loved her as much as he said he did, then he would surely want her to look, wouldn't he? But Christine again remembered the threat he had issued, and she refrained from looking under the white shield that guarded Erik's face.

When Erik woke up, he settled himself on making dinner for the both of them, so Christine was left alone while Erik cooked their meal. She wondered how on Earth she would survive living like this.

Erik interrupted her reverie, shouting, "Dinner is served!" Christine rose from the chair and went into the dining room. Erik had certainly prepared a beautiful meal, and again he helped her into her chair. The two sat in an awkward sort of silence. Christine wasn't entirely sure about what to think of Erik's apparent undying affection, and Erik was hoping Christine would finally realize how she felt about him.

Just before the meal had concluded, Erik leaned forward on his elbows and asked, in all seriousness, "Christine, would you marry me?"

Christine dropped her spoon, splattering the soup all over the tray. She didn't want to say no outright, but she wasn't sure how to resist such an unexpected proposal.

"Erik, no, I can't marry you," Christine finally said, worried that she was hurting his feelings but at the same time relieved that she finally came up with something. "I'm sorry, but I just need more time."

"Erik understands," Erik said frostily, and Christine worried that she really had offended him. He only used the third-person when he was stressed or timid. "Good night, Christine," he said, standing and leaving her alone. Christine was left staring at her now-ice-cold soup. She wondered if she could have gone about it any other way. She stood up from the table slowly and started walking back to her own room, but then she remembered something that was bothering her the whole day. She had wanted to know where Erik slept, and Erik had steered her away, claiming that she didn't need to know that.

Christine crept along the darkened corridor, listening for any of Erik's shallow breathing, but she couldn't hear any, so she surrendered to her failure and went to bed.

The next few months went by in that manner. Every day, Christine had a music lesson, and then she and Erik would sup together. Every night, before their meal concluded, Erik would lean forward and ask Christine to marry him. Every night she refused him, and he would stomp off in silence.

One nasty winter day, Erik asked Christine his mandatory question, and Christine, instead of saying no, had asked Erik a counter-question.

"Could we go to the library?" Christine asked, and Erik was enthusiastic about the idea, so he bounded out of his chair to assist Christine out of hers and then he proceeded to lead her to the library.

Once in the library, Christine nestled into an armchair, and Erik laid down on the sofa. Both were hypnotized by the blazing fire, and soon Erik fell asleep. Christine prayed that Erik would forgive her for what she was about to do, but the curiosity was eating at her. She crept beside him, and then before her courage failed, she whipped his mask off his face. What she saw properly horrified her, and she thought she would faint, but she knew she had to escape from the terrible vision. She shrieked very loudly, and Erik sprang from the couch.

"Damn you!" he screamed at a trembling Christine, who immediately rushed out of the library. She ran out of the castle in only a long-sleeved dress, but she barely noticed the snow. Tears obscured her vision as she ran as fast as she could. Somehow she knew Erik was following her, so she tried to run faster. Christine tripped over some roots that stuck out of the snow, and she laid on the ground sobbing before she heard growls. She looked up and she shrieked again, for she was facing a pack of about eight wolves. She had no hope in Heaven of being able to fight, so she prayed that the wolves would finish her off quickly.

To her immense relief, the wolves began whimpering and ran away from her. Christine gazed around, looking for her savior, and when she saw Erik coming, she screamed and tried to get to her feet to begin running again.

"Christine, wait, please, I can explain," Erik shouted, and Christine shrieked as she tripped again. Erik held up a gloved hand that he hoped she would take to mean stop, and Christine remained still while Erik made his way through the snowstorm to get to her. He picked her up in her snow-soaked dress and wrapped his extra cloak around her. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until he got her in front of a fire and drinking some warm tea. Once in his arms, she closed her eyes and seemed to turn unresponsive.

"Why did you run away? Since you have seen under the mask, you belong to me, now and forever. Nothing in Heaven or Hell will ever change that," Erik said firmly, and all Christine could do was shiver uselessly in his ropy but strong arms.

To Christine's shock, Erik too began to quiver, and tears fell from under his mask as he tried to restrain himself from shaking so he wouldn't drop her.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that. I warned you, didn't I? You and your damn womanly curiosity," Erik cried. "But now I have to get you inside. If I don't, you'll be sick, and if you're sick, we can't have our lessons for a long time. If you fall ill, if anything bad happens to you, it is because of me. I am a loathsome being and I deserve to be treated as such. Oh Christine, please forgive me for frightening you," Erik pleaded. He searched her blue face for any response, but he got none, and he walked faster toward the castle.

Once inside, he hustled Christine to the library, laid her on the couch, and stripped away the extra cloak. He wanted to remove her dress, but he felt it would be improper. And yet, Erik was curious to know what Christine looked like without her dress on…_NO_! Erik told himself. _What are you, a voyeuristic pig? She is quite possibly ill and you want to ogle her? Pathetic disgusting bastardized monster_! He did indeed take off Christine's dress, but he looked at nothing and got her into a new thicker dress. He then hurried to the kitchen and made Christine an entire pot of tea with honey. He came back to find Christine had opened her eyes, but they were vacant. Vacant as one's eyes could be when imagining unspeakable horror.

Erik placed the pot of honey tea on the table and he knelt beside Christine. He reached for her frozen hand, rubbing it carefully between his talented hands and treating it as though it would shatter at the slightest touch.

"Christine," he begged in a whisper, "respond to my touch. Please, I am begging you." She still only stared at the ceiling. Her vision was filled with the dreadful visage of Erik, the way he had resembled a corpse, and that scared her. Why on Earth would a corpse want to love her? She remembered the way the death's mask had contorted, the way the dead lips opened and he had screamed at her. His roar was ghastly, and she hoped never to hear it again.

"Christine, you have made me break a promise to myself," Erik chastised her, still caressing her hand. "I promised myself that you would be the one to never run away from what was behind the mask, and yet you did. For that, I should be put to death for corrupting an innocent mind such as yours. Forgive me," he moaned, burying his few strands of hair into her chest.

He was pleased when Christine moved, but he was sorely disappointed that she jumped in response to his touch. She jumped away from him like one touch would poison her. He was deliriously thrilled that she didn't scream. He knew it was a stupid, silly thing to be grateful for, but at that point, he didn't care.

Christine screwed up her face and shoved Erik away with all the strength she could muster. Erik was obviously annoyed with her response, but he knew how she must feel.

"Christine, can you hear me?" Erik asked, reaching out to brush some of her fair curls away from her face. She slapped his hand away, but then her face said that she regretted the action.

"You saved my life," she said quietly and slowly. She said it with the cadence of one who had recently been in shock. Erik nodded passionately. "Why?" Christine asked before Erik remembered the tea before her and hastened to pour her a cup. Before she took the cup, she added, "You're a monster. Why on earth would you want to _help_ me?"

Her words tore through Erik's heart like cat-o-nine whips. She sipped delicately on her tea while staring at him. Oh, she expected an answer.

"Christine Daae, as I've said before, I love you with all my being. I would do whatever necessary to ensure that you will be mine." He turned away from her for a moment. "Since you have seen my face, you are mine forever. No woman that has seen my face may ever leave me. You are the only woman that has ever seen my face, though. I don't want you to leave me, and so I will do whatever necessary to keep you. Do not make me resort to force, my dear. Or do not make me resort to my drugs. One mistake and you could die." Christine didn't say a word. She merely sipped her tea and smiled as the honey made its way down her throat.

"Erik, I thank you for saving my life from those rabid wolves. God only knows what they would have done with me. You are my savior; I am permanently in debt to you. That means I will stay." Erik's stomach started turning somersaults at her words. She wasn't lying, he could tell by the inflection of her voice.

"Thank you," Erik said, taking her hand and kissing it feverishly. "You are my princess, you need not do anything more." He helped her up off the sofa, from which he discovered that she had no lasting-effects from the near hypothermia she had suffered. He took her to the music room, where he played and she sang with all her might. They remained that way all day. Erik was eager, happy, and content, and Christine didn't fear for her life or well-being the way she used to. She felt pity for the poor man, and she wished she could heal his face, but she knew it was not medically possible.

* * *

On a rainy spring day, Christine was awakened by Erik's frantic shaking.

"Happy birthday!" he sang, and Christine giggled. She didn't know how he knew, but she was thrilled he knew.

"How did you know?" she asked coyly, raising an eyebrow.

"Magic," Erik answered, and she laughed. "No, really, how did you know?"

"I'm a really excellent guesser," Erik said, and she laughed some more. She threw her arms around his neck, and he picked her up out of her bed and carried her out of her bedroom to the dining room, where he sat her in a chair.

"Your breakfast is coming right up," Erik promised, and he scurried off to make Christine a special birthday breakfast. He concocted some chocolate pastries, because he knew Christine loved them, and he poured her some of the finest milk he could find. He placed the plate of pastries and the glass of icy cold milk on a tray and waltzed back into the dining room.

"Your breakfast is served," Erik announced, placing the tray on the table and sweeping a low bow before her before sitting himself. Christine smiled the biggest, brightest smile she could at him and said, "Thank you, so much." Erik wanted to melt under the warmth of her gaze, but he forced himself to smile back as much as he could with the mask on and he watched her eat, pleased that she was eating something that he had made with his own hands.

"I hate to rush you, Christine, but I want you to finish quickly, for I have more gifts for you," Erik said with a wink, and Christine gasped.

"Really?" she said in disbelief, and Erik nodded. Christine gave a small laugh of delight, and she scarfed down her pastries quite unladylike, because she was anxious to see the rest of her gifts. She was not used to being given presents, but she was not greedy. She was merely appreciative that someone worshipped the ground she walked on and blessed the air she breathed, and if that someone wanted to bestow gifts and praise on her like there was no tomorrow, then she wasn't about to stop them.

Christine swallowed the last of her pastries and gulped the last few drops of milk. Erik rose from where he sat and he went to her side of the table. He offered her his arm.

"Shall we?" he asked, and Christine rose gracefully to take his arm with a breathtaking beam of happiness. Erik led Christine to a room she hadn't seen before, one that Erik had always kept locked, and she was slightly stunned. She wondered why Erik had kept it locked, and she held her breath while he dropped his arm from hers and unlocked the door slowly. The suspense was killing her, and she tried to keep from jumping up and down like a small child.

Erik whispered, "Close your eyes," and Christine did as she was bid. Erik placed his hands over her eyes, just to be sure they were closed, and he led her carefully into the room.

"May I look now?" Christine queried impatiently, and Erik laughed.

"Not yet," he said. He took her a few more steps forward and he took his hands off her eyes. He said, "Open your eyes," and Christine opened her eyes to a sight so glorious that she almost fainted with shock.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered, placing her hands over her erratically thumping heart. The room Erik had chosen to gift to her was an enormous library, not only full of books but also all the opera compositions of the world. There was a selection that had been especially left out, and Christine walked closer to examine it. She gave a squeal of glee as she looked upon it, and she clapped her hands.

"Erik! _Faust_!" Christine gasped excitedly, and Erik snickered.

"I know it is your favorite," Erik said, "and I have procured for you a brand-new edition, instead of the marked up, dingy copy you had among your possessions."

"Thank you, Erik!" she cried, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek of his mask. Erik was once again grateful to have the mask, so as to hide his blush at her affection. She, who had once been afraid to even look at him!

"This is only one of your gifts," Erik said, and Christine looked up to gape at him. She had already been given one of the greatest and most beautiful gifts one could ever hope to receive. What else could there be, she questioned.

"Spend as much time in here as you would like," Erik instructed. "When it comes close to dinner time, go to your room, where a surprise will be on your bed. But that is not your gift. I want you to do what is proper with that present, and then come to the dining room, where a marvelous supper will be waiting for you. After supper, then your last surprise will come." Christine nodded like mad, anxious to show him she understood. Erik left her to her own devices and he exited the library. As he left, he thought to himself, _I only have a bit of time left. There is no hope for me. I can only cherish the time spent with her and hope that I never lose those memories. I am going to let her go after my next birthday._

Christine absolutely pored over everything in the library. She plucked every opera composition off the shelf, read it anxiously, and attempted to sing some of the songs unfamiliar to her. She tucked away the ones she was not comfortable with inside her bodice, so as to take them to Erik later and ask for musical accompaniment, and possibly a lesson.

Dinner time rolled around quicker than she expected, and she left her library to go to her room to prepare for her birthday dinner. She nearly sprinted to her room, nervous about her present. She had no reason to feel nervous. Christine entered her room and spied her gift upon her bed, and she shrieked with joy. Her "not-gift" was the most beautiful evening gown she had ever seen. It was floor-length, of course, black with red embellishes, and the sleeves were puffed. Erik had included long black gloves, and black high heels, which Christine loved. She slipped into the dress, which fit like a glove, and she twirled around the room out of sheer happiness. She slipped the gloves on and slid into the shoes, and she felt like a true princess. She remembered what Erik had said about the dining room, and she hurried down there from her bedroom.

She entered the dining room slowly, and upon seeing her Erik's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe his eyes. Christine was so breathtakingly beautiful…there were no words that he knew of that he could use to describe how utterly heartwrenchingly beautiful she looked. He rose from the table and bowed to her. When he straightened, Christine saw that he also was in a formal evening suit, and she thought he looked absolutely dashing.

"Christine, my dear, you look absolutely ravishing," Erik said, and Christine curtsied, a blush rising to her face. "No, don't be embarrassed, I enjoy bestowing praise upon you immensely." Christine smiled shyly and she seated herself at the far end of the table.

Erik and Christine ate their fine supper in awkward silence, both of them avoiding eye contact with the other. Finally, Erik finished, and he waited for Christine, since she was a rather slow eater. Christine finally ended her meal, and Erik rose.

"Now, for your final surprise," Erik announced, practically bouncing with excited anticipation. He went around to the other side of the table and collected Christine from her spot. She took his proffered arm and they left the dining room. Erik led the way to a large set of mahogany doors that Christine had never seen before.

"Close your eyes," Erik ordered, and Christine smiled as she let her eyes flutter shut. She felt herself being propelled forward by Erik's gentle touch and she heard their footsteps echoing.

"May I open them yet?" Christine asked, and Erik removed his hands from her waist. Erik scuttled around Christine to place himself right in front of her and he extended his right hand, saying, "Now, you may open them." Christine opened her eyes to find Erik, devastatingly debonair and standing in front of her with his hand outstretched to her, in a massive ornate ballroom.

"Oh, my God!" Christine cried. "Erik, this is so beautiful!"

"It is not one-hundredth as beautiful as you are," Erik said, his face totally serious. "May I have this dance?"

Christine felt like she was on air, and in complete honesty she answered, "Yes!" She took his hand, and the second she did a waltz was struck up somewhere. Erik swept Christine to the middle of the ballroom and they began a slow, meticulously beautiful waltz that Christine thought was genuinely part of a fairy tale. Towards the middle of the dance, Christine put her head on Erik's chest, and he was slightly surprised by the intimate gesture. However, he did not push her head away. He drew her closer to him and relished her warmth. Erik could smell her perfume, a lovely smell of jasmine flowers.

When the dance unfortunately came to an end, Christine and Erik stepped apart, and, looking each other directly in the face, bowed slightly. Erik was elated. Christine's face had gone from its naturally ivory shade to a stunning coral-tinged pink, and she was smiling at him.

_I must tell her now_! Erik thought to himself as he led Christine out to a balcony that came off of the ballroom. _I must tell her I love her before I let her go and all this was for naught!_ The pair sat down on two separated stone benches. Christine shivered in the cool night air, despite the heat she had gained from her dance, and Erik swept his gentleman's cloak off his shoulders to wrap it elaborately around hers. Christine pulled Erik's cloak close and sighed mournfully, a sound that worried Erik to no end.

"Christine? What is wrong? Did I make you upset?" Erik asked, and Christine looked up at him, anxious to let him know that he was in no way the cause of her sigh.

"No, Erik. Nothing is wrong. This was the most spectacular birthday I have ever had. It is just that…well…" She paused for a moment, to rearrange her words correctly in a manner that would not hurt Erik's feelings. "I just wish I could see my father and siblings again. I miss them very much, and I would always look forward to my birthday because that was the one day of the year my siblings did not fight. They wanted to work hard to make my birthday special." Tears filled Christine's eyes and threatened to spill over. "I am truly sorry," Christine added, "for I am very ungrateful. You have given me all these beautiful gifts and yet I am still not fully happy."

Seeing the pained expression on Christine's lovely face broke Erik's heart, and he sighed before he made his excruciating decision.

"You may go back to your family, Christine, but only for a week. I can take you early in the morning, if you wish, and then I shall send for you after a week has gone by. Do you understand?"

Christine leapt off her bench, which was not easy for her to do in high heels, and she threw her arms around Erik and kissed him on his masked cheek.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, tears raining down her face. "You are without a doubt the sweetest, kindest, most generous man I have ever known!" Erik pushed her away gently, an action that he wanted to whip himself for, and he wordlessly put a ring on her left ring finger. Christine examined the ring, and he cleared his throat to give her an explanation.

"This is a gift from me," Erik explained, "and it will let you know when it is time to come back. Do not disobey." Christine nodded, kissed him on the cheek once more, and hurried off to pack her trunk. Erik groaned and sank back onto the stone bench.

"What have I done?" he moaned to the moon. "I have sent away the only girl I have ever loved, the one that can return me to the real prince and break the enchantress' spell. I hope in my heart that she shall return when I ask."

Christine went away the next morning, without so much as a good-bye, and Erik spent the next week in agony. He stayed in his room all day, without food or drink, only going through his memories of her and reviewing all their good times.

Christine, on the other hand, arrived home and was greeted by her father, who had aged considerably since her departure. Her father fell upon her with kisses and embraces plenty, and he explained that her siblings, in her absence, had all gotten married. True, the marriages were not the best, but Gustave did not have to provide for five children any longer.

"Your brothers have their wives, and your sisters have their husbands," Gustave said. Christine smiled and hugged him again. It was wonderful to be home.

Many times during the week, Gustave asked Christine about the ring on her finger.

"He hasn't asked you to marry him, has he?" Gustave asked, horrified that such a beast would try such a horrible act of slavery upon his angelic daughter.

"He has asked, but I've refused every time," Christine promised. After she answered her father, she usually spun the ring around on her finger and wondered if it was right for her to keep refusing him.

Sadly, a week passed rapidly, and on the morning Christine was to return, Gustave sat on top of her trunk and begged her not to leave.

"Please, my dear Christine, just one more day," he pleaded. "I am such a lonely old man. When you left, all the joy left my life. Just stay one more day to give me happiness for eternity until I die and reach peace." Gustave's appeal touched Christine's loving heart, and for her father's sake, she forgot about Erik involuntarily to stay one more day. Alas, one day turned into another week, and when the carriage came from the castle to fetch her, she had all but forgotten about Erik.

"Oh, dear, he is going to be terribly upset with me, is he not?" Christine asked herself on the carriage ride back. She twisted the ring around her finger so hard she left a mark, but she didn't care. She had broken her promise to Erik, and she knew two things. One, he was never going to be so lenient with her again, and she was going to receive a terrible punishment for disobeying him. Christine closed her eyes and prayed that she would be able to withstand the punishment that Erik was sure to give her.

Christine approached the open castle door cautiously. She peered inside and after making sure that nothing was going to leap out at her, she dragged her trunk inside and shoved it against a wall.

"Erik!" she called, cupping her hands around her rosy mouth. She began to panic when she didn't get a reply.

"Erik!" she called again and again. She wandered through the entire castle, calling his name and listening in vain for a reply. Finally, she heard a muted, weak, "Christine." The sound came from the direction of the gardens, the beautiful rose gardens that Erik had led her through so many times, and Christine took off immediately to find Erik.

When she reached the gardens, a dreadful sight met her eyes, and she gasped. Erik was lying on the ground, for sure dead, and she ran to him. She clasped one of his freezing hands in hers and tears began to fall from her eyes.

"Erik," she sobbed, "Erik, I am here. I am so sorry." Erik smiled a weak, pathetic smile and whispered, "You are here now. That is all that matters. I am dying of love for you, my dear Christine. Let me have the memory of your kiss before I die, please." Christine could not think of any reason why not, so she tried to control her tears and she leaned down and placed her mouth gently on Erik's. She removed his mask and ignored his ugly face while kissing him as gently and meaningfully as she could.

After Christine tried to find a pulse, she flung herself across Erik's body and sobbed. Christine realized, verily too late, that she really had loved Erik as much as he said she did.

"Erik, I love you," she murmured and kissed his mouth once more. Before Christine's astonished eyes, Erik's body rose into the air and began to glow. The light became so bright that Christine had to avert her eyes for fear of blindness. But when Erik came back down, there was a difference. Erik's scrawny, thin body had been replaced by a handsome fellow with plenty of muscle, long flowing hair, and the most breathtaking face Christine had ever seen.

"Erik?" Christine asked, confused. "Oh, my God…Erik!" She began crawling around the gardens looking under every rose bush for Erik's body. She knew this man was not Erik, could never be the loving, sweet, gentle, kind Erik that she knew, and she needed to find Erik's body. She wanted to at least have his body.

"Christine," the handsome man said in a rich, deep voice that reminded Christine so much of Erik's.

"I am sorry, monsieur, but I really must find my friend," Christine said, sniffling back some tears and still searching.

"Christine. It is I. It is Erik," the man said, and Christine simply stared at him in bewilderment.

"No, you are not," Christine protested. "My friend Erik is kind, and sweet, and the best musician I have ever seen. You, sir, are huge, muscular, and no doubt one of the most tone-deaf people I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!" To Christine's bemusement, the man chuckled.

"Christine, it is indeed I. Listen to my voice. Close your eyes." The instruction was so familiar to Christine that she simply performed the action on command.

"Remember the day your throat was sore, and I made you tea with honey, and you sang such a clear miniature aria that day, it brought me to tears? Remember who carried you in out of the horrid snowstorm and saved you from the wolves? I made your meals, Christine. It was I who gave you that magnificent library and that new copy of _Faust_, along with that magnificent dance on your birthday. The way your hands felt enclosed in mine, not to mention the warmth your body gave through the dress, I had never felt so enlightened before, nor had I ever enjoyed a dance more."

Christine gaped at him.

"It _is_ you, Erik! However did you become that weakling that I am used to?"

"I had a curse put upon me by an enchantress. She told me that unless I could find true love, and find someone to love me back for who I was, not because I was a prince, then my curse would never be broken."

"Erik! You do not really mean that. Enchantresses do not exist!"

"Ah, but they do, my darling Christine! Your love has saved me in more ways than one." Erik got down on one knee in front of Christine and pulled out a small black velvet box. "Christine Daae, you have broken my curse and changed me back into what I was before. But only in physical form. Mentally, I am the same as I was when you met me. I still hold true the words I said to you from before. I love you with all my heart and all my soul. I would protect you with every resource I have, and I would die to defend you from any evil. There are no others of which I can say the same, Christine Daae, and I want you to become my wife so I may continue to live for you and you alone, as I have for all this time." He opened the box and extended the gorgeous ring toward her. "Marry me, Christine Daae. I love you."

Christine was openly sobbing with happiness, and without a second thought she threw herself into Erik's arms, crying, "Yes! Yes!" Erik pulled her closer into his lap and began to kiss her.

Over the next few months, wedding preparations were made, and in June, an absolutely glowing Christine walked down the aisle to become the new princess. Two months later, Erik and Christine became the new king and queen. But no matter what, Erik and Christine had their music lesson every day. Christine would often give benefit concerts for poorer people in the kingdom, and Erik would accompany her on the piano, while secretly and silently basking in the glory that she was his creation.

Erik and Christine lived happily ever after.

_Fin_.

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Aw. Wasn't that adorable? :D Please review? Thank you!


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